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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25702693">Kindling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KidWhom/pseuds/KidWhom'>KidWhom</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Hat in Time (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adopted Children, Angst, Arguing, Child Death, Fire, Gen, Mafia Boss can't cook, Me? Writing angst late at night? Its more likely than you think, So sorry if this makes no sense, Yet again I did not edit much, takes place before the events of the game</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:40:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>617</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25702693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KidWhom/pseuds/KidWhom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It had started as a simple kitchen fire. A spark of electricity from the Boss had gotten close to the pan. A common occurrence in Mafia HQ. But it wasn't able to be put out. The Boss wasn't very well versed in fire safety. An evacuation was fast. Although it was late his Goons were out in minutes.</p>
<p>Fic based on a headcanon where the cut character Timmy is Mafia Boss' son.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Kindling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was about 11 PM at night. The Boss of the Mafia was cooking, an orange flame from the stovetop illuminated his face. A child walked in, tired, with blue markings on his face, a strange feature he'd had since he was adopted, and even before that, though he doesn't remember much of back then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey, uh… Dad?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mafia Boss looked over at the child, the kid was wearing his new pajamas, and held a small robot plush he'd had since the 2nd anniversary of being found in the garbage, cited as a "Weird Raccoon Child" by some Mafia Goons, and subsequently being adopted by their Boss in his arms. The kid called the strange grids, spots and stripes on the sleepwear "Radical!" when they were bought from the tailors in the town below. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Timmy, it's late. Go to your room."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy tilted his head, noticing the pan of eggs Mafia Boss was scrambling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...You shouldn't be cooking without your goons to supervise-"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm able to cook myself. Go to your room now." The Mafia Boss had a bit more of an annoyed tone. He's the Boss of the Mafia of Cooks! He can do this!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But that's what Goofy said!" Timmy objected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>ROOM. NOW.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Timmy backed away and quickly ran to the direction of his bedroom down the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn't usually this short-tempered. It was a late night at the docks, with making sure the shipments to that bird-filled desert were ready. He grumbled to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...He's a conspiracy theorist anyways."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had started as a simple kitchen fire. A spark of electricity from the Boss had gotten close to the pan. A common occurrence in Mafia HQ. But it wasn't able to be put out. The Boss wasn't very well versed in fire safety. An evacuation was fast. Although it was late his Goons were out in minutes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Boss, I counted fellow Mafia. They're all safe." The Bartender of the HQ gestured towards the whispering and worried Goons, a few of them shaking in the cold temperatures of the late night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Good. I don't think there's anyone left in there."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A Goon running through the crowd with their strange sense of style shouted out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>BOSS!! BOSS!!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mafia Boss snapped around, glaring at the source of the noise. It was that conspiracy theorist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>WHAT IS IT, GOOF?!"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"YOUNG RACCOON CHILD!!! IS HE-"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A silence fell over everyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mafia Boss freezed for a moment. He trembled, his hands gripping into fists. He wasn't angry however, his expression was one of terror, his eyes widening as he processed what he was asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Timmy… I told him to go…"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Boss…" The Bartender tried to put his hand on the Boss' shoulder, but was pushed away by him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...I'm going back."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>"BOSS, NO-"</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he was already running towards the cannons near the observatory.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt like hours for the Goons. There were few murmurs. The cold night felt like dread seeping into everyone's hearts. An expressionless Mafia Boss came walking back soon though, his eyes cold as he held a limp body in his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laid them down on the ground, electricity sparking from his hands. The Goons nearby gathered around. The boy had burn marks everywhere, his blue markings faded. The Boss pushed his hands onto the kid's chest, he was using a Supercharge to try and somehow restart his son's heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flash of light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But nothing changed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Electricity sparked and sputtered around the Boss. He started to shake, tears falling on the child's chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>please please PLEASE PLEASE </span>
  <em>
    <span>PLEASE</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another attempt. And another. He was getting weaker each try as his emotions became unstable and unfocused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"please…"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>But Timmy was gone.</em>
  </b>
</p>
  </div></div>
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